Hands Off
by jeromevaleska
Summary: You have a boyfriend, and Jerome isn't very happy about that because you're supposed to be his.
I watched them from a distance, and seeing the two of them together hurt like a motherfucker. She had told me the truth not long after they started dating, and the second she did I wanted to find that shithead and kill him, make him choke on his own blood and beg me for mercy as I plunged a knife deep in his throat. I thought about how I wanted to cut off every single one of his fingers that he used to touch her perfect body, he didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as her.

He was making her laugh and smile more than I ever could, and it made me feel sick to my stomach. Whatever that little shit just said to her, I was willing to bet it wasn't even funny, not in the slightest.

Her eyes lit up with every word that he said and somewhere in the distance I could hear a heart fluttering. She was happy. I loved it when she was but because it wasn't with me, I started to loathe seeing her like that.

They were at a diner, on a date. Her boyfriend reached across the table and kissed her. That's when I had to leave. I adjusted my position from behind a wall, being careful so they wouldn't see me. I found myself stalking them more than I should have, but I couldn't help it. It was killing me inside and I still put myself through it every time.

I wanted this to end, my feelings for her. My brain throbbed as I kept it inside. I tried to rid of this unnecessary complication in my life. Though, it would always cower in remembrance and click a torch in the back of my skull, searching for a way out. Buried alive, it stayed in rest until the dirt became too cold, the silence too loud. It's not as if I believe I can't find someone else, it's that I no longer want to. She asks and I tell her no. She laughs and shakes her head, telling me that I will find someone one day. I violently disagree, I want to stomp my foot and yell at her for being so fucking stupid, for acting like it's so simple. I want to stop moving, I want her to stop moving. I told her that I can't. I just can't, no matter how much I needed to.

My lips and tongue burn with the sensation of even speaking those affectionate words to a future 'someone'. I cannot. I will not. I won't. It would kill me.

My mind keeps replaying the image of her head on my shoulder when I took her home one day. The scent of fruit. I wanted to kiss her head. I wanted to kiss her. She had dozed off then, it was likely she didn't know what she was doing. When her head moved away, my shoulder empty, just like the feeling in my chest. There were times when we were just talking, doing nothing in particular, and I would find myself staring at her lips, her heavily lidded eyelids, and thinking about how fucking perfect she was in every way. I just couldn't look away. I don't think she had the slightest idea of the hold she had on me and at first I thought that was the hardest part, but no, it wasn't.

The hardest part was seeing her talk about the fucker she called her boyfriend and how she wouldn't stop giggling when she mentioned his name or when she dared to ask me advice on what she should wear for him one night because she needed another guy's opinion. That lucky shithead. I couldn't bear to think about it, but it always managed to creep into my brain about what he probably did to her that night. Just the image of it made me want to skin him alive, I wanted to stab him until there was nothing left of him, and only then would I be able to make peace with that thought.

I felt so sick one time that I nearly vomited when I thought about how I wished I was him, just so he could look at me in the same light. It made me want to kill him more. I knew one day that I would have to, that I would give into the urge, because he was so fucking despicable. He bore the same relevance as a piece of chewed-up gum becoming a part of the sidewalk, less even.

I remember the day that she introduced me to him, and I know I should have felt proud of myself for not killing him right then and there but I've never been more disappointed in myself than I was in that moment. I wouldn't do it right in front of her, no, I would do it the second I was alone with him, that way he knew exactly who he was dealing with before he was squirming on the floor, begging me to stop slicing him.

I had so much trouble just being her friend, so much that I couldn't do it anymore. One of her favorite subjects to talk about was that fucker and it became so hard to listen to that I nearly shouted at her to shut up. My mind was screaming, screaming with how much I needed it to end but thankfully I kept the voice at bay. I told her as gently as possible, through clenched teeth to stop because I was having a hard day, and that silenced her, making the rest of the day with her awkward and uncomfortable. Her voice was soothing and so sweet, and I could listen to it all day but not when it was about him, no I couldn't stomach it anymore.

We started to drift apart, little by little. We still spent time together, it was just different when we did. I found it difficult to look at her after a while, knowing that she wasn't mine. It wasn't fair. She thought she was happy with that shithead she called her boyfriend, but I knew that if she gave me a chance, I would treat her like a queen, make her feel like the luckiest girl alive. I wanted that chance. I needed it. It had to come someday.

Then one day, my wish came true. After months and months, my anguish finally ceased. She called me up one night sobbing, she was an utter mess, I could hardly understand her at first. She told me that she broke up with that shithead because she caught him cheating on her. I couldn't have been happier, the piece of shit did something right for once. In all his life, I bet that was the only notable thing he ever did. Everything was going to fall into place, I'd comfort her for as long as I needed, wipe those pathetic tears off her face and make her laugh, and in no time at all, she'd realize who she was supposed to be with.

I told her that I'd come over to her place so she could tell me everything and I already knew that I had to play the sympathetic friend. When she opened the door to me, her eyes were red and puffy, looking at me with tear-stained cheeks and I nearly said out loud, "Fuck it, that shithead is a goner," but I didn't. I had to wait out. I knew exactly what was going to happen when she fell asleep, there was no way I was going to let that shithead get away with this. I had never seen her so broken before, she was choking on her misery and almost all of her eye make up was trickling down her pretty face.

It was bittersweet. I loved that the fucker broke her heart so that I didn't have to worry about him in my way anymore, but at the same time, seeing her like this, made me want to kill him even more, times a million. There was no way in hell I wouldn't make him suffer for this. She sat back on her bed, her hands burying her face as she wept.

"I should have saw the signs, he would always come home really late and make these shitty excuses," she sniffed loudly as she lowered her hands away from her face, "I... I don't know what I saw in him, I feel like the stupidest person in the world."

"Hey hey, you're not stupid," I told her as I caressed the soft skin on her back through her blouse with my hand, "okay maybe a little for falling for that piece of shit," I said with a light chuckle, and it was enough to make her giggle somewhat, so that was enough. "But there's a lot dumber people than you, like that shithead for hurting you," I gazed into her swollen eyes and she looked back, her sniffing became somewhat quieter. Her eyes nearly smiled but then she quickly turned away, the look on her face disappearing as quickly as it came.

"I feel like I should be mad at him for hurting me, but I'm more anger with myself, for believing everything he said," she uttered hoarsely, trying to let herself breathe before she continued, "and we got in this huge fight, like there was so much yelling and he said that I was only bad for him, that I was holding him back."

That shithead was getting a slow and painful death, everything she told me solidified that. I was so furious, it was becoming almost impossible to control, but I didn't dare let it show. I continued to massage her back, following wherever her eyes went, to find that glimpse of hope.

"He didn't deserve you, I knew it from the second you told me about him," I said, "what he does deserve is to die, for hurting you this much," I blurted out, my mouth was moving before my brain could catch up with what I was saying.

She looked at me like I was crazy but then she quickly said, "Hey, don't say things like that," she sniffed again, "I don't ever want to see him again, but I don't wish death upon him."

Oh but I do. That was a stupid thing to say, stupid stupid stupid. I mentally cursed myself for it but then I continued, "I was only kidding," I lied, chuckling to act like it was just a joke, "I only said that because he's a fucking idiot," I added, "and I would never hurt you like that," I told her, my eyes never leaving hers, not even for a second.

"Jerome..." she whispered my name and stared back at me, her lips parted, and we were close enough that I could feel her breath on my face. In that moment, I think she realized it, and there was no going back. I couldn't go another day without her knowing.

"Not ever," I repeated, "You deserve to be treated like a queen, and I would do exactly that," the words slipped out before I even thought about it further. I averted my gaze from hers for a second, only because I didn't even know how she was going to take it, "I wanted to tell you for a while, but the timing was never right, and then he came around," I nearly hissed just from the mere mention of him out loud.

"All this time?" she asked quietly, so low that I almost didn't catch it.

"Yeah," I replied, "all this time."

She turned away so I couldn't see the expression on her face, and the wait was the most painful thing I've ever experienced. Fuck.

"You don't have to say anything, just know that," I tried to reassure her, and she still wasn't looking at me.

She turned to look at me with a weak smile on her face, and it was enough to calm the voice in my head that was shouting at me.

"Jerome, I... God, I like you, too," she finally said. "I've liked you for a really long time, I just-"

That was all I needed to hear. I reached in and cut her off with a short, soft kiss. Then we pulled away, lips still brushing together, before it shifted into something much slower. She sighed against it, and I felt my heart going a million miles an hour. I licked lightly across the seam of your lips, and she parted them willingly. My tongue bumped against hers, and when she pulled me close to taste me, a moan scraped my throat.

"Jerome," she gasped, and pulled away. "Wait, I don't want to mess this up, too."

I took her hand in mine and kissed the top of it before she could say anymore, "You won't," I reassured her, "I know we shouldn't rush into anything, I just wanted you to know because I couldn't hide it anymore."

She smiled at that, and started rubbing slow circles over my chest, leaning in to press her mouth against mine again. We kissed until we had to part for air, and the voice that was shouting at me, berating me, was now as proud as ever. I didn't regret a thing, everything fell in place just like it was supposed to. She was mine, and that was all I could ever ask for. Her lips were so soft and addictive, I could kiss them all day and never grow tired of it.

She started laughing all of a sudden, covering her mouth to stifle it, and I couldn't be happier that she was laughing because of me. It was easily my favorite sound.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Nothing's funny, I'm just embarrassed because this was well, our first kiss, when I look this awful, my makeup is all smudged and runny and I just look terrible," she croaked out in that sweet voice of hers, giggling and her cheeks lit up with a soft hue of pink.

"No, you look perfect," I corrected her, "as pretty as a doll."

I cupped her cheek in my hand and I pulled her into another lingering kiss, we were both chuckling during it, and it was the most perfect thing being able to swallow her laughter. Finally, she was mine, it made all that waiting and seeing her with that shithead worth it. At first I thought I was dreaming, but for once it wasn't a dream, no it was very real, realer than anything I've ever felt.

Shortly after our make out session, we decided to watch a movie. She begged me to let her pick, because she knew I would pick some kind of horror movie and she told me that she cried enough today. So she ended up picking some dramedy that I found myself not paying attention to at all, because all I could think about was her and the taste of her lips. I replayed the scene of her saying she liked me too in my head a thousand times, and I don't think I would ever stop.

She ended up falling asleep half-way through the movie snuggled up in a blanket. She looked so cute and peaceful when she slept, her chest heaving and her eyes closed in such a way that made her lashes look even more beautiful. I found myself watching her like that longer than I should have, but it was my cue to leave.

I had to pay that shithead a visit, a long-waited one at that. I opened the door carefully and quietly, so I wouldn't disturb her slumber, and thankfully I was successful. I made my way to his house and whipped out my pocket knife the second I stepped foot in it. His wails were almost as perfect as her laughter. Almost. It was undoubtedly my second favorite sound.


End file.
